Seeing the confused look still lingering on Barty's face, Snape waved his wand and let out a deep sigh, his tone filled with admiration and recognition.
"Ah, every time I see you, I'm reminded of myself in the past.
"At the Walpurgis meetings, you always sat quietly by yourself, just like I used to, preferring to hide in the corners."
"But you haven't attended any of the gatherings for a long time," Barty said in a lowered voice. "They all say you've betrayed us. Is that true?"
"No. They're the ones who betrayed me," Snape said with a sneer. "I used to act like a devotee, hoping for approval, searching for a sense of belonging among them. But as time went on, I realized that to them, I was nothing more than a disposable servant."
"So what does that prove?" Barty curled his lip, full of disdain. "We can't officially join until after graduation anyway..."
"Do you really think that?" Snape glanced, seemingly by accident, at Barty's left arm. "Mulciber clearly didn't share your patience, though he's now rotting away in Azkaban."
Barty let out a faint snort.
"You know," Snape leaned closer, fixing his gaze on Barty's eyes, "we have many things in common. For instance, we both have fathers who are... deeply disappointing. Utterly disappointing."
"Do we?" Barty said with a mocking twist of his mouth. "My father isn't a Muggle."
"Yes, yes," Snape said, clapping his hands in exaggerated acknowledgment. "The great Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Mr. Bartemius Crouch. Who doesn't know his name?
"And yet, you've never once mentioned him at school. It's as if he doesn't exist at all."
A flicker of disgust flashed across Barty's face, as if Snape had just pulled at a half-healed wound.
Snape suddenly stood up and sat down on the edge of Barty's bed. The two were now so close they could hear each other's breathing.
Snape stared straight into Barty's eyes and spoke in a low, controlled voice:
"All this time, we've both pretended our fathers don't exist. But in a way, I almost envy you. At least your father isn't a complete bastard."
"He's not much better..." Barty muttered softly, his tone tinged with hesitation.
"Do you think he loves you?" Snape asked suddenly.
Barty froze. It was a long while before he slowly shook his head, saying nothing.
"My father didn't love me either. He didn't even love my mother," Snape said in a low voice. "I hated him."
Barty's pupils widened slightly.
"So," Snape's expression hardened, "I took away the thing he valued most."
"What was that?" Barty couldn't help but ask. There was a keen curiosity in his voice.
"He was a bitter, short-tempered Muggle," Snape said, without answering directly. "He cared for no one, no one but himself."
"This time, when I returned to the school..." Snape paused deliberately before continuing, "I could see the Thestrals at the front of the carriages."
"You mean..." Barty pushed himself up on both hands, murmuring in disbelief, "Professor Kettleburn said in class that only those who've seen death can see Thestrals..."
"No, your guess is wrong." Snape gave him a meaningful look. "Let me ask you something else, do you believe your mother loves you?"
Without hesitation, Barty nodded.
"You see, there's another core similarity between us," Snape said sincerely. "We both have mothers who love us."
Snape gently patted Barty's shoulder and said warmly, "Barty, I'm not joking with you. You and I, we're very much alike.
"The people of Walpurgis, the Death Eaters, even the Dark Lord himself, they will never truly understand either of us. We are the same kind of people."
"I am willing, and I can help you," Snape said, extending his right hand toward Barty. "I can help you take away the thing your father treasures most, and ensure your mother can keep loving you. Will you let me?"
Barty stared at that hand for a long moment. Finally, he slowly extended his own right hand and clasped Snape's.
"When you've fully recovered, and when the time is right, I'll share my story with you, Barty." Snape released his hand.
When Snape left the hospital wing, daylight had already filled the corridors. Sunlight poured across the floor in golden sheets.
He rubbed his tired eyes and decided to head to the Great Hall for something to eat before going back to his dormitory for a long, comfortable sleep.
On the way, he had expected that after his "brilliant performance" in the dueling competition, most students would avoid him like the plague.
To his surprise, several students nodded and greeted him politely as they passed. That had never happened before.
As he crossed the Entrance Hall in mild bewilderment, a tall sixth-year Hufflepuff boy came briskly up to him and invited him to breakfast.
"You were amazing, Severus!" said Bertram Aubrey enthusiastically, handing him a cup of hot pumpkin juice. "That duel the day before yesterday, it was glorious! You should've seen Potter's bare backside..."
"Ah, thank you, Bertram." Bertram's enthusiasm was almost too much for Snape, who wasn't used to such friendliness. "I'm just glad I didn't scare you all too badly."
"I should be the one thanking you!" Bertram said with a wide grin. "Honestly, I was scared at first, but then I thought about it, and you didn't strip anyone else's robes off, did you?"
He lowered his voice, his tone full of satisfaction. "You know, Potter hasn't even shown up to class these past two days. Serves him right! If I could beat them, I'd have done it myself long ago.
"And Black, what did you say to him? That look on his face when he surrendered..."
"What did they do to you?" Snape raised an eyebrow, beginning to understand Bertram's enthusiasm.
Bertram slammed his hand on the table, his face flushing with anger. "Just because I was partnered with Lily Evans in Divination, Potter and Black cornered me in the corridor after class, called me delusional, said I was getting ideas above my station, and hit me with a nasty jinx."
Gesturing animatedly, he went on, "That spell made my head twice its size! I spent two whole weeks in the hospital wing! My skull ached so badly I thought it would split..."